


who built the man who built the wall

by friedgalaxies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birthday, Coaches, Datekou Week 2021, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 03:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friedgalaxies/pseuds/friedgalaxies
Summary: Oiwake Takurou’s forty-sixth birthday is soon, and his team is acting weird.
Relationships: Oiwake Takurou & Datekougyou Volleyball Club | Date Tech Volleyball Club
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9
Collections: Datekou Week 2021





	who built the man who built the wall

**Author's Note:**

> for datekou week 2021’s day 5: **captains (vices and managers)** | illness | future 
> 
> okay so the prompt didn’t technically include coaches but i decided it should anyway because i may or may not have read the prompt wrong. thank u

Takurou Oiwake’s kids had been acting weird for the past week.

Not to say that they weren’t already weird. He coached the most eclectic team this side of Miyagi in Datekou’s own Iron Wall, an honor probably only shared with Karasuno’s Ukai Keishin.

And, okay, they weren’t Takurou’s kids. He wasn’t related to any of them, they weren’t his legal charges, the only claim he had to stake on any of them was as their volleyball coach and approximately 30% of the reason they didn’t get arrested when out in public as a group.

(Nametsu was a good 25%, Moniwa a respectable 30%, and Aone the last 15% when one of the two former called on him to break up antics they were simply too small in frame to stop.)

But lately they’d been even worse than usual. It had started when Nametsu started acting squirrely around him, something he’d never known her to do since the day he met her as a meek little first year. Well, about as meek as Nametsu had ever been, which wasn’t much. She cursed out at least half the team within her first independent week as the sole manager once her predecessor had retired. It brought a smile to Takurou’s face whenever he thought about it for more than a few seconds at a time.

Nametsu had already been in the gym, as she was wont to be, setting things to rights before running the boys through morning warm-ups to make sure they were all awake. Usually, Nametsu was the only one who was in the gym at this time, eventually followed by Aone and Futakuchi and slowly, the rest of the team would trickle in. She’d greet him with a cheerful, “Good morning, Coach!” and continue bustling about like the underappreciated, undamnable force of nature she was.

(Takurou’s favorite warm-ups she planned were when she made the boys do aerobic exercises. Some of them could barely reach their toes— Kamasaki, Obara, Koganegawa— meanwhile Sakunami could fully twist himself into a human pretzel and Onagawa regularly reclined on the floor during cool down with his legs spread out before him and his chest flat to the floorboards. He’d fallen asleep that way more than once, actually.)

“Oh— good morning, Coach? Lovely weather we’ve been having, huh?” Nametsu blabbered, tucking… something behind her back that Takurou hadn’t been quick enough to see as he closed the door behind him. He cocked one brow. She continued. “I was thinking of doing warm-ups outside today, actually, on account of how nice it is. My classmate told me the soccer field is empty around this time on Wednesdays.”

“Sounds good, Nametsu.” he grunted. “I’ll meet you right out there, I just have to grab something from my office first.”

“N-no!” Nametsu stammered, jumping to the side with limbs akimbo, though one arm remained stuck purposefully behind her back. “Uh, I heard from the janitor that there’s a leak in the roof there, he told me to tell you he’s gonna patch it up. I grabbed your files, here!”

She presented him with the necessary sheafs of paper, all neatly organized into binders in Datekou teal, white, and slate gray. Takurou accepted them with the barest hint of reluctance, wondering, for a moment, if she’d done something to them. But Nametsu wasn’t the kind to pull pranks, especially not on him. Her attacks— generally in retaliation— were quick, brutal, and efficient. Futakuchi sported more than enough slap marks on his face and arms after Datekou team bus rides to show for it.

“I’ll meet you out there, Nametsu. Don’t take too long.”

She saluted, mouth creased in a funny little bird-like grin. Maybe she was just entering one of those stages teenage girls got into sometimes. He had never been particularly good at predicting them, despite having three daughters of his own.

His suspicion continued to rise as, later that week, his eldest daughter sidled up to him as he reclined on the couch that evening and asked if he had his eye on anything in particular he’d like for, say, an upcoming holiday or birthday, brown eyes big and sparkling. Which wouldn’t have been so weird, considering his forty-sixth birthday was coming up soon, but what really cemented the action was that Moniwa asked the same thing that very next afternoon at practice, except in a much more roundabout way.

“Coach, uh,” Moniwa said, fingers nervously folded together and moving over each other in a way that made Takurou wonder how he hadn’t rubbed them raw yet with the habit. “You don’t happen to have any sorts of hobbies, do you?”

Takurou grunted. “Coaching this team takes up about all of my free time, but I do like to wood work on occasion, sometimes metal. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, uh, well—“ Moniwa scratched the back of his head nervously, eyes darting about from side to side like he was looking for someone to come rescue him. Lucky for their captain, Sasaya dropped in at that moment, looping an arm around Moniwa’s shoulders despite the full inch of height Moniwa had on him. Moniwa was forced to duck a little, ears pink within the mass of his soft, curly black hair.

“Kamachi was just complaining about needing help with wood shop, weren’t you, Kamachi?” Sasaya cut in smoothly, snagging Kamasaki by the arm as he walked past. Takurou’s brows furrowed, because as far as he knew, shop classes were Kamasaki’s best subject by far. His father was a furniture maker and he’d been toddling around his workshop since he could walk, from what Takurou had gleaned from talking with Kamasaki’s father at matches. He was a nice man, if a little busy sometimes, but he came to almost every one of his son’s matches. Takurou wouldn’t be surprised if he continued to come even after Kamasaki retired from the team.

“Yeah, kinda,” Kamasaki replied, which made all of their brows raise a little in alarm, either at the fact that Kamasaki wasn’t doing well in wood shop or the fact that he’d admitted to it. Takurou crossed his arms.

“Well, it’d be much smarter and easier to ask your teacher, but I’ve built a thing or two in my time. I’m currently working on a boat—“

“A boat?” Moniwa cut in, eyes bulging. Sasaya seemed similarly impressed. Kamasaki’s eyes sparkled.

Takurou was, suddenly, overcome with a wave of fondness for his team.

“Yes, I used to help my father build boats at his job when I was younger and kept up the habit after he passed. Ah, his boat, what was she called….” Takurou stroked his chin in thought. His third years crowded in closer, expressions of varying degrees of delight and excitement bordering on terminal capacity on their faces.

Practice started a little late that day.

Now, Takurou would not count himself a suspicious man, but there was nothing wrong with a healthy dose of wariness. After all; one was an accident, two was a coincidence, and three was a pattern.

With this in mind, he found himself stalled in front of the gym doors by his largest and inarguably his gentlest of students, Aone. The sun was high and warm in the sky, making sweat bead on the back of Takurou’s neck even just for the few minutes he had been out in it walking from his car to the gym, so he had no idea why Aone and his pale, sensitive skin was outside of the gym instead of within the safety of it, away from sunburn and damage to his eyes. He was, at least, standing under the shadow of the overhang, already dressed for practice but not going in.

“Aone, what’re you doing out here?” Takurou asked, coming to a stop just at the edge of the shadow the overhang cast, already feeling the temperature drop considerably. Aone fidgeted with his fingers but otherwise remained impassive in front of the door. There was a rumbling noise from inside. Takurou’s brow creased, even more than usual.

“What’s going on?” When his silent middle blocker didn’t speak up, Takurou continued. “Did you need help with something?”

Hesitantly, Aone nodded. Ah, so it must’ve been something he didn’t want to bring up in front of the others. That made sense, thought Takurou wasn’t sure why he was asking him of all people. Aone’s mother was a kind, capable, absurdly strong woman, and would undoubtedly have any advice his friends or counselors hadn’t been able to offer.

But maybe it wasn’t that. Aone’s father had, after all, passed away when he was fairly young and left the boy without a major father figure in his life. Maybe Takurou was that for him, someone he trusted more than a counselor or his uncle or anyone of the like.

(For a moment, Takurou’s chest swelled for his silly, messy, eclectic team.)

He squared his shoulders, nodding once. “I see. Is it a volleyball related matter?”

A shake of the head. “School, then?”

Hesitance, then another shake. A steady pink flush was climbing to the peaks of Aone’s pale cheeks. So the boy was embarrassed?

“Something to do with girls?” Takurou hazarded. Aone stilled, looking away. “...Boys?”

A beat, then a nod, sharp and succinct. Privately, Takurou exhaled in relief. He still wasn’t too good with teenage girls, and so far his daughters that had shown interest in crushes had only shown them in boys.

“I see.” Takurou said. He hadn’t expected himself to be the one his kids would come to for relationship advice, but it was better than prowling around on the internet or getting deliberately malicious abuse from upperclassmen or older siblings. “Is it something pertaining to the team?”

A nod, the corners of Aone’s mouth gone tight. Ah, there it was.

“Are you worried about the team finding out, maybe even being upset with you?” At his roots, Aone was a kind soul, though he was liable to forget his own sheer strength and size when in the throes of excitement on the court. Though he often knocked into his teammates even to the point of knocking them down, Futakuchi being the most common victim, he always helped them up right afterwards, showing a (very expressive, for him) considerable amount of concern. The only ones he didn’t seem concerned about knocking down were Kamasaki and Koganegawa, because they were his closest in size and could take the brunt of the hit better than anyone else.

Aone fiddled with the collar of his shirt, something Takurou had known him to do when anxious. He used to have the habit of ducking into his shirt collar whenever afraid or anxious, as rare of a circumstance as it was, though apparently it had been much more common when he was younger. He nodded, so very slightly Takurou could’ve missed it if he blinked. He set a hand on Aone’s shoulder. There was a faint clang from inside the gym, and a raised voice yelling something, but he ignored it for now. This was more important.

If he couldn’t be here for one of his team at a time like this, then could he ever honestly say he’d be there for them any time else?

“Listen, Aone.” Takurou started, waiting for the boy to make eye contact with him. And that he still was, just a boy, despite his size and intimidating features. “None of them will think any different of you, and if they do, you can bring them to me. But I know your teammates, and I know this team like the back of my hand. None of them will have an issue with you being gay, I promise.”

Aone’s face was fully pink from hairline to collar, but he seemed content, for now. He gave a grateful bow, deep from the waist. Takurou let a rare smile grace his face. “Now, let’s get in there and start practice, okay?”

A much louder clang came from inside the gym. Aone’s eyes widened with panic and he held out a single hand, fingers spread, in front of the door. Takurou frowned.

“What’s going on in there?” he asked. Another loud shout, this one joined by many voices in rapid succession. Takurou’s brows raised to his hairline. “Aone, what are you all hiding from me?”

Aone opened his mouth as of to say something, which was rare enough in and of itself that Takurou wouldn’t have wanted to miss it, but it was then that a high pitched shriek echoed from inside the gym and he decided he’d had enough. He jerked at the gym doors, which didn’t budge, then jammed a hand in his pockets for his keys. Aone made an anxious kind of humming noise behind him but didn’t move to stop him, instead rummaging in his own pockets for his phone.

Takurou fiddled with his keys, not expecting to have to unlock it at this time of day, but he got it open eventually. He really should start labeling these keys eventually. He slid the doors open with a great amount of force, making them rattle in their casings, and stomped inside the gym.

“What is with all the racket—“

“Happy birthday, Coach!”

He barely had time to get the beginning of a barking reprimand off the tip of his tongue before the many voices of his team chorused out as one, party poppers going off to his left and right and showering the gym— and Takurou— in confetti.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, at a loss for words for what was probably the first time in his life.

“You…” he started. He pointed at Nametsu. “What the hell were you trying to hide from me?”

Nametsu looked about as sheepish as she’d ever get, which wasn’t very. She was holding one end of a banner that read “ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY COACH OIWAKE_ ”, Sakunami at the other end. Koganegawa waved pompoms racously above her head, face split in the biggest grin Takurou had ever seen on his face. “I couldn’t find anywhere to put the decorations I’d just bought but in your office, because Moniwa had the key to the supply closet, and I wasn’t sure if you’d even go in there anyhow.”

Takurou huffed, but nodded. It made sense. Nametsu was clever.

He pointed at Moniwa, then Sasaya, then finally at Kamasaki, each with more weight behind it. “And you three. What were you trying to get out of me?”

“Well,” Kamasaki scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m not actually failing shop.”

Takurou snorted. “I figured.”

“But we couldn’t figure out what to get you, since you never talk about your interests, so we had to pretend he was and ask.” Moniwa admitted.

“And if anyone is most convincingly gonna be the one failing a subject, it’s Kamachi.” Sasaya added.

“Hey-!” Kamasaki yelped. Sasaya grinned at him, ducking out of the way of getting put in a headlock. Aone stepped up behind both of them soundlessly at the back of the group, placing a hand on the top of Kamasaki’s head and gently rattling him till he calmed. He fell silent, for the sake of keeping the peace.

Takurou huffed out his nose again. “So you were all planning a surprise party?”

“We were!” Futakuchi chirped, holding forth a cake, a yellow cheesecake with slices of candied lemon and buttercream frosting decorating the top. “Lemon cheesecake, your favorite.”

“Futakuchi didn’t bake it.” Onagawa drawled, in case there was any doubt, which there wasn’t. The boy could hardly microwave noodles. “Fukiage made it.”

“Fukiage?” Takurou asked, a little incredulous. The boy rubbed the back of his neck, head ducked low.

“My mom’s a chef, and I’m really into nutrition.” he admitted to the floor. Takurou clapped him on the shoulder. Fukiage looked up with a start, but when he locked eyes with Takurou, he was beaming.

Takurou felt a grin slip onto his own face as well. He had good kids.

They passed around careful slices of cake, and to Takurou’s delight, it was absolutely delicious. He was on his second slice when Kogane pushed through the crowd, followed by Obara and Onagawa. Kogane looked about ready to vibrate out of his skin, holding a box that was no doubt containing a present for Takurou. He motioned for the boy to give it to him and tore into the wrapping paper, not caring for once if they were making a mess of the gym.

“Oh, my goodness.” Takurou said, genuinely taken aback in shock. Inside was a small velvet lined box made of dark wood, and within the box were a set of fine, handcrafted tools for whittling detail work. He lifted one to the light, reading the inscription.

“ _From the heart of the Iron Wall_ ,” was burned into the handle of each tool. He looked around, though he couldn’t locate a particular culprit.

“We all chipped in on those, Coach!” Kogane chirped, never one for silence for too long. “Kamasaki’s dad has a friend who makes high quality wood working tools!”

“We weren’t gonna tell him that part!” Kamasaki hissed, ribbing Kogane. Kogane cried out in surprise, then in apology.

“Here’s the next one.” Onagawa said, placing it in Takurou’s hands. “This one has more of a cohesive source.”

Within the wrapping was a small but thick book, with a blank leather cover. Inside were pictures, from news clippings to personal images to printed out articles and yearbook pictures, all detailing the accomplishments of the Iron wall from the years Takurou himself had attended Datekou up until the present day. On every other page there was a note from each member of the team, long and detailed in each member’s handwriting. He’d have to read it later tonight, he still had another present to open. But first—

“Who put this together?”

Onagawa and Sasaya sheepishly raised their hands, and Futakuchi jerked both of their wrists higher in the air. He said, with as great a sense of pride as he would had he been the one who made it, “Sasaya’s excellent at scrapbooking, and Onagawa found all the pictures and articles.”

“Thank you boys, really.” Takurou said. He looked up to meet Obara’s eyes, who held out the last present. It was wide and flat, wider than it was tall. It was heavy in his hands as he accepted it.

“One more, Coach.” Obara said, mouth cocked in a smile.

Takurou tore away the paper to reveal an intricate metal picture frame, housing a group shot of the entire team, one that included every member and Nametsu, even himself. He had no idea when the picture had been taken, though it was clearly a little while ago, as some of the members looked younger than they did currently.

His lips pursed with the effort of holding back the tears that threatened to sting at the backs of his eyes.

He looked up, and there was only one person in the entire gym that could’ve made the frame, much less had the thought to make the gift in the first place.

Moniwa’s whole face was pink, shoulders shrugged up to his ears, and he grinned a little lopsided back at Takurou. “Happy birthday, Coach.”

“Yes, it is.” Takurou said. “The best one I’ve had in a long time, with the best Iron Wall I’ve ever seen.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! i don’t think oiwake gets nearly enough appreciation for all the foundational work he’s put into the iron wall, both literally and metaphorically. he’s also my favorite coach, so the lack of content including or focused on him is really sad :( comments, concrit, and questions always welcome and i hope you’re staying safe <3


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